Possessive Tendencies
by amberpire
Summary: You're a good person. You don't vandalize things. But Sam made it sound so, so good when she whispered it in your ear. ;Carly/Sam;


"I'm sorry, Carly."

You would tell her it's okay but it's not. That, and you can't see where she is with your face smashed against the glossy blue hood of a police vehicle.

You, perfect Carly Shay, are being arrested.

The click of the handcuffs circling your wrists makes your gut twist so hard you think you might puke. The cop yanks you back to your feet and shoves you in the back of the car, only narrowly missing the top of it with your head. You slump into the seat and jump as the door slams behind you, staring wide-eyed at the caged wall between the backseat and the front. You realize with a jolt of fear that this is where criminals sit.

You're a criminal.

Sam slips in beside you, completely nonchalant. You can't remember how many times she's been arrested. Twice? This is all normal for her, but you never thought that you'd have any kind of brush with the law and now your head is starting to swim and you lean forward, cradling your head between your knees.

"You okay, Carls?"

Something about her tone irks you and you fling yourself back up, narrowing your angry gaze at her. "I'm being arrested, Sam! No, I'm not okay!"

The two cops in front shush you as they whip out of the parking lot and your blood is boiling with anger. No, Sam didn't force you to break the law, but she was pretty damn convincing with her chest pressed to your back and her hand guiding yours as you spray-painted a smiley face.

"We doodled on a fucking wall, you'll get a slap on the wrist for this."

You tug at the handcuffs and hiss as they bite into your soft flesh. Jesus. "That's not the point, Sam. Spencer, my dad - they are going to murder me. Mur. Der. Me. They are going to skin me alive and boil me in lava and rip out my teeth and shove them in my eyeballs and I'm never going to leave the house again -"

The police officer in the passenger seat smacks the caged wall between you, once more barking at you two to shut up. You slump against the door and press your forehead to the glass of the window. You're a good girl. You get good grades and volunteer and don't start fights. You're a good person. You don't vandalize things.

But Sam made it sound so, so good when she whispered it in your ear.

You close your eyes and feel your gut twist again. It was not fair of Sam to get close to you like that and use that - that _charm _against you, the charm that leaves you powerless and aching for more. Was it a mere ten minutes ago? Sam pressed to your back, her lips so close to your ear they brushed against them when she spoke. "It's no big deal, cupcake," she whispered, her hand holding the back of yours as she helped you arch the smile of the face. You were too focused on the warmth spreading across your back and the way her breath on your ear made your entire skeletal system turn to jelly to notice the red and blue spin of a police car. By the time Sam had realized it, too, it was too late, and the kids that had been vandalizing the wall with you were long gone.

"Are you mad at me?"

You turn a little and watch her watch you. There is a degree of guilt in her eyes. She didn't mean for you to get in trouble. She's kind of desensitized from this whole breaking-the-law business, but it looks like she just realized that you've never done this before and it's scary. It's _really _scary. Being arrested wasn't exactly on your list of things to do before you die.

But this is Sam and it's impossible to stay mad at her for very long. You sigh and shake your head slowly and she takes that as an invitation to slide closer to you, her thigh against yours. You turn your head until your cheek is against her shoulder and her lips are pressed somewhere in your hair. "I'm sorry, cupcake."

"Hey -" The police officer in the passenger seat, a porky kind of guy with a terrible five o' clock shadow, twists in his seat and glares at you. "Separate. Now."

Sam ducks her head and slowly slides to the other side of the car. You glance at her and watch as she makes faces at the cop's back and even though you're not too happy about this getting arrested business, you can't help but press your lips together in a tight line to keep from exploding with giggles.

* * *

You thought you had seen Spencer as mad as he could get when you accidentally knocked over a still drying sculpture of a giant squid made out of Styrofoam cups.

You were wrong.

You try to keep a straight face as he yells at you and screams about the court date tomorrow to determine your punishment, but the way Spencer's face contorts and turns bright red is so comical you have to think about terrible, disgusting things to keep from laughing at him. When you're finally able to drag your feet to your room and collapse on the bed, you close your eyes and try to recapture that moment just before the cops showed up. When Sam was so close to you it was like she was trying to become a part of you and a fire ignites between your thighs.

It's a strange but oddly nice feeling. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you slip it out, reading Sam's text.

_Can I come over?_

You stare at it for a while. You really should be mad at her. She got you arrested. She convinced you to break the law. It wasn't technically her fault since you consented to do it, but when Sam gets that close to you, you would say yes to anything she asked and that's just unfair.

But this is Sam.

And you say yes, and an hour later she's slipping through your window, balanced on the ledge with a grin on her face. You shake your head and try to act annoyed, irritated, mad - but when she slips her hands around your waist from behind you and whispers another apology in your ear, you forget why you were mad to begin with.

* * *

The next morning, you wake up first and brush your teeth and take a quick shower. When you return, Sam is still sleeping like the dead with her arms outstretched where you had just slept. You wring your hair dry and watch her, perching on your computer chair across the room.

It's not like _that _with Sam. At least, you don't think so. It's never been official or anything and you still don't know how you feel toward girls or boys for that matter, but there's always been something about Sam that has driven you absolutely crazy in every sense of the word. She's the only person who knows how to push your buttons (ex: getting arrested) and then, five minutes later, make you fall in love with her again. You've always convinced yourself that that's really unfair to use herself against you like that but you kind of like it - actually, you really enjoy it.

But your favorite part about Sam is that she isn't like this with anyone else. She doesn't touch other people the way she touches you and she doesn't get as protective about other people as she does you. She's always been tough and mean, but when it's just you and her you see the kindness and gentle nature that everyone else doesn't care about. Those same hands that have the ability to crush someone's skull into a concrete wall hold you while you sleep and caress you and heal you and make you feel things - things that both scare you and excite you.

You love her, really, but you still don't know to what extent. So you just gaze at her sleeping body sprawled on the white sheets of your bed and you admire the way her golden hair seems like it's glowing from the way the sun outside falls on the brilliant locks. You like twisting your fingers in it which is something Sam will never admit she actually likes. You let your eyes travel down to the big shirt she's wearing and nothing else, how it's puddled in the small of her back and you can see the two dimples where her love handles are and you were always fascinated with them because your hands fit there so nicely -

"Carly?" Spencer's hand smacks against your door. "We're leaving in an hour." He still sounds mad and cranky and he stomps away pretty dramatically for an adult, but you figure he has a right. He would never expect something like that to come of you and you can't help but agree with him.

You kneel by the edge of the bed and shake Sam's shoulder. She's drooling and even though it's kind of gross, you find it sort of cute. She groans and rolls over which you take as a brilliant opportunity to jump on her back, so you do. She grunts as you straddle her, flinging her blanket of yellow hair away from her face. "Wake up, Puck," you whisper in her ear, your hands finding her sides and squeezing them. Sam bucks and screams as you tickle her. You're laughing but Sam doesn't find it very funny, releasing a string of profanities when she finally manages to roll you over, pinning you to the bed.

"Oh, you are going to regret that, Shay," she says, still only half awake and the sleep is heavy in those striking blue eyes hooded under her blonde lashes.

"You have terrible morning breath," you inform her with a crinkle of your nose.

She takes a deep breath and huffs in your face before rolling off of you, waddling to the bathroom. You cough and throw a stuffed bear at her just as the bathroom door closes and you're left laughing and waving the soiled air in front of you with your hand. Only Sam could get away with that.

* * *

"Well, Ms. Puckett, how nice to see you again." The judge, an older woman with big, brown, curly hair that looks strangely like a small dog decided to sit there smiles brightly at Sam as she sweeps into the courtroom. The room is empty except a security guard, Spencer, Sam, her mother, and you, and another woman who said she was going defend you. Currently, she's doodling all over a notebook. You don't feel so reassured.

"Hello, your Honor. You look smashing." Sam does a mock of a curtsy which makes the judge chuckle as she sits down. You're really not surprised that the judge has taken a liking to Sam. Most people do. She's a horrible trouble-maker and doesn't really learn anything from consequences of her actions. People can't really hate Sam. They can be afraid of her, sure, but it's that lopsided grin and irresistible charm that keeps people from wanting to push her away.

"Thank you. Now, to business." She scoops up a pile of papers and you feel a bit queasy. You don't know this lady and you feel like she's judging you without really knowing who you are. You're a good person. You really are. It was one slash of graffiti, one smiley face on the bricked wall of an abandoned hair salon on the bad side of Seattle. It's one bad mark that could destroy every good thing you've ever done. You stiffen and grow more and more uneasy as the silence stretches and she still doesn't say anything. You feel Sam shift beside you and snake her hand in yours. You instantly feel comforted and when you glance sideways, she's giving you a wide smile of reassurance. Your heart thuds.

"All right. Carly?" She turns her eyes to you and raises her eyebrows. You freeze when she looks at you even though her eyes are kind because you shouldn't be in a courtroom. "Considering this is your first offense - and a very minor one, at that - I'm going to give you twenty-four hours of community service and a warning. Now, you, Ms. Puckett, this isn't the first time I've had to deal with you." The judge sighs, cradling her chin in her hand and staring intently at Sam, who grins sweetly at her. The judge cracks a smile. "I can't keep letting you off the hook like this, Samantha."

"I know, your Honor."

"You seem like such a good kid. I don't want you living the life of crime."

"Give me the same punishment as Carls here. She'll teach me my lesson." She squeezes your hand again and wiggles her eyebrows at you and your cheeks flush an embarrassing shade of pink. "I promise you won't see me in this courtroom again."

The judge turns her eyes to you and raises her brows. "Try to keep her out of trouble for both our sakes?"

You nod vigorously, still flushed from Sam's flirtatious look she had given you a few moments before. "Yes, I will, absolutely."

* * *

"I would rather soak myself in hydrochloric acid."

You laugh at Sam, flicking a french fry in her direction. "Considering we vandalized a building, this isn't that bad of a punishment."

Sam glares at you from across the table. The two of you are at some cheap fast food joint a block away from your apartment building and Sam's already on her third burger. You watch, amused, as she stabs the paper the court had sent describing your punishment. "Picking up litter? Oh, that's fun. We'll get to wear those _gorgeous _orange vests they give you and it's going to be hot as fuck. God damnit, Carly. I hate everything."

You shrug. Honestly, you're just glad this isn't going to be stuck on your permanent record. It isn't going to mess up the future for you and twenty-four hours of community service is a small price to pay for a future you've always wanted. Besides, with Sam there with you, it won't be that bad. At least she'll make things entertaining. "It won't be that bad," you assure her, reaching across the table to pat her hand. She flicks those blue eyes at you, still scowling, but she scoops up your hand and presses her lips to the back of it with a lopsided grin that makes your lungs forget their function.

"_Maybe _I'll survive if I can stare at your ass the whole time."

"Sam!" You tug your hand back and try to hide the furious blush taking over you face and Sam just laughs at you. Popping one last fry in her mouth, she stands and holds out her hand for you to take and you don't even think about it, it's just natural with her and you take it without a moments hesitation and you don't even care that people gaze curiously after you. You like having Sam this close to you, you like that Sam would never hold hands with anyone else but you.

And you know Sam likes you way more than you're ready to face because best friends don't talk about staring at their asses like that or hold them the way Sam holds you. You know your relationship is a little abnormal, much different than most best friend relationships, but you like the oddity of it because Sam makes you feel things no one else ever could. You still don't know how to handle all that or what you should think of it, but for now all that matters is that being with Sam - whatever label you want to slap on it - makes you happy and you don't want anyone to touch you the way Sam does.

* * *

Sam was right. The orange vests are just beautiful.

You frown as you tug it on, Sam grumbling beside you. It's so early the sun is barely breaking over the horizon and the Seattle air is heavy and damp. You're accompanied by ten other unruly children who seem just about as happy to be here as you. The man running the whole shebang looks like the big hippie type with beads in his hair and a shirt that looks like the 70s threw up on it. He greets all of you with a wide smile and lots of hand clapping, whisking you on the bus.

You slip into the nearest empty seat and Sam slides in right next to you, her blue eyes scanning each kid that walks past you. Her naturally protective nature when you're around people she doesn't trust amazes you every time. One hand is on your knee while the other is pressing into your lower back. You like that touch and tilt toward her. You like having her worry about you, you even like the possessive position she's in. You're Sam's. Everyone should know that.

You pause at the thought. Are you Sam's? In what way?

You don't have much time to think about it because Sam tucks your head under her neck and you close your eyes, comforted by her close proximity and the way her hand rubs your back as you start to doze. And you know that Sam would never do this with anyone else and that makes you feel special in a way only your best friend could manage. And it's moments like this, when Sam is so close to you and taking care of you that you realize just how big of a part of your life she takes up. Just how much she means to you. And, yeah, she got you arrested, but if you had to choose anyone to do community service, Sam would be your first choice.

Sam touches your cheek when you arrive at your designated highway and you grunt, rubbing your eyes. "You're cute," she tells you, smirking as she takes your hand and leads you down the bus aisle. A girl with bright purple hair watches the two of you curiously as you step off the bus and you instinctively stand as close as you can to Sam.

All right, you might have some possessive tendencies yourself. So what.

The hippie man, Tom, spreads the lot of you out and you frown in disapproval as Sam is directed across the silent highway. She gives you a small wave before leaving you to your garbage bag and stick and a valley of litter left by lazy drivers. You huff, stabbing a plastic bottle and shoving it in your garbage bag.

"Hey, is that chick your girlfriend?"

At first, you don't react because you don't think the voice is directed to you but then you pause when you don't hear a reply from someone else. You turn toward the purple-haired girl who is watching you with big, black eyes. You open your mouth only to close it, failing at speech for a moment. You glance across the highway at Sam, chatting away with the hippie. Finally, you manage a very cool and smooth, "Uh."

"Well, is she?"

You turn your gaze back to her. She doesn't seem like the type to throw a Bible at you and damn you to hell or anything, considering the purple hair. You shrug a little bit because you're not sure. You never worried about titles like that. "No. Kind of."

The girl pouts for a moment. "That sucks."

You raise your eyebrows at her. "And why's that?"

She cocks a grin at you and twirls her stick before turning away, talking to you over her shoulder. "Because she's hot. I wouldn't mind tapping that."

You furrow your brow at her back as she walks away. Well, duh. Of course Sam is -

You pause again, gnawing at the inside of your cheek and glancing once more at Sam across the street from you. The distance is pretty far but you can still see her cape of golden hair flipping in the wind and over the roar of the slow morning traffic you can hear her laughing with another kid about something. It's then you realize the second part of the girl's statement and your eyes turn to glare at her back. There would be no tapping of Sam unless it was -

You stop again and take a long, deep breath, stabbing at various litter around your feet. Now wasn't the time to think about your troubling sexuality. You were supposed to be thinking about the crime you committed and how terrible it was and how you'll never do anything like that again, even if Sam tries to talk you into it, and you'll just have to build up some kind of resistance to her touching you because you still think it's unfair that with the slightest physical contact you're on fire.

Huffing and scoffing at the fact that Sam is your weakness, you try to think about what a horrible crime vandalism is but it's only twisting itself into fantasies. What if those kids had never been there and it was just you and Sam and the cops had never shown up and what if she licked the shell of your ear and then kissed your neck and what if her hands snaked up the back of your shirt and touched your hot flesh -

Woah. Okay. You give yourself a mental slap and remind yourself that you're here because you're a criminal and you have to do your time, not confuse yourself over your feelings for Sam.

But Sam's so nice to think about and those what-ifs are really, really distracting.

* * *

By noon you're so tired you feel like you could fall asleep standing. It's lunch break and you collapse against Sam's shoulder when she sits beside you on the bus, not having the energy to get the lunch Spencer packed for you.

"Have you ever done physical labor, Carls?" Sam chuckles between bites of an enormous ham sandwich, wiggling it in front of my face. "C'mon, eat your lunch."

You groan. Your back is screaming at you from bending over so much and you smell and it's gotten really hot outside. The thick orange vest isn't helping things and the gloves Tom gave you make your hands smell like grease and it's just disgusting. You begin to wonder if Sam's earlier suggestion of being bathed in hydrochloric acid is actually a better idea to this. And, yeah, you're whining and making a big deal out of punishment you deserve, but it still sucks. But it's okay because Sam doesn't mind your whining so much. She tucks your hair behind your ears and smiles at you and you can see beyond her in the seat across from you two the purple girl who's eyes are playful. You cough, turning away to pick your lunchbox off the floor and dig into it.

"Hey."

Sam turns towards the voice and you cringe, glancing up. The girl leans forward on her knees with her feet in the aisle and her boobs are all but spilling out of her shirt and her eyes are a little too suggestive for your liking. "I'm Zoe."

You don't see it, but you know exactly the way Sam's grinning at her as she extends her hand over the space between them. "Sam. This is Carls."

She takes Sam's hand, an eyebrow cocked. "Carls?"

"Carly," you correct faintly, nibbling at the turkey wrap Spencer made you.

Zoe nods, immediately uninterested in you and letting her eyes jerk to Sam. One hand curls into a fist at the way Zoe bites her tongue and stares at Sam in a very promiscuous manner. "So, are you two _together_?" She puts extreme emphasis on the last word as if you don't know what she means without the implication. You glance, scared, at Sam, who turns her head back to you with a confused look in her eyes. Zoe keeps going, "Because I'd _really _like to get to know you, Sam."

You feel a fire build up to your cheeks and you're smart enough to realize that Zoe just wants to know the naked parts of Sam, which, well, would be kind of nice if you knew them too, but Sam is your best friend and you're not about to let some horndog take her away from you. You're surprised Sam hasn't said anything yet and when you turn your gaze on her you realize with a jolt that she's speechless.

Sam Puckett can't think of anything to say.

"She's taken," you say suddenly, grabbing her free hand and tugging it toward you. Sam blinks out of her trance and looks at you, surprised. You watch with smug satisfaction as Zoe slumps in her seat.

And your heart is thudding because you're not sure if you did what you just did because you're jealous or because you really want Sam to be yours. Sam doesn't take her hand away but she certainly doesn't act like she wants it to be there, and you sit in awkward silence until Tom tells you to get back to work. Sam doesn't lead you down the bus aisle - she doesn't wait to hug you or squeeze your hand when you step off the bus. She just crosses the street without looking back and you're left on the other side confused and hurt.

What did you do?

* * *

On the way home, Sam sits next to you, but she doesn't touch you or look at you. You've gnawed your lip so much it's sore and pulsing and you reach out to hesitantly touch her thigh. It's impossible not to touch Sam when she's this close. You just have to.

"What's wrong?" You've never really had to ask that question because you just know these things with Sam. But the way she's staring straight ahead and not tilting toward you and taking every advantage to touch you is weird and cold and makes you feel empty and hollow.

She glances at the hand you placed on her thigh before flicking her eyes straight up again. "Nothing."

And the way she says it, like you don't matter, like you're not worth telling her problems, makes you recoil and frown into your lap. She doesn't spare you a glance the entire ride home and when the bus finally stops she's the first one off, shoving people out of her way. You, on the other hand, are the last, dragging your feet behind Zoe who glances over her shoulder with much too happy a grin on her face.

Sam doesn't even say goodbye to you before she climbs into the car with her mom. Ms. Puckett gives you a small wave but Sam's looking in the other direction and you stand and stare after her until Spencer honks his horn. You climb slowly into the passenger seat and you don't know what you did to make Sam so upset but it's ripping you apart. You text her demanding she tell you what's wrong but she doesn't answer.

"Are you okay?" Spencer nudges your shoulder with his and he doesn't sound so mad anymore but that's hardly a comfort.

"Yeah," you lie, slumping against the window. "Just tired."

* * *

"Sam, stop ignoring me," you growl into Sam's voicemail. This is the third time you've called her and she's still not answering and your fear is twisting into anger. "I don't know what I did but it's stupid to ignore me. I know you can hear your phone ringing because I purposely chose the loudest ringtone. Please? Please call me?" Your voice had suddenly cracked at the end and you simply stand there, biting your lip to keep a whine from escaping your throat when you finally hang up.

But she doesn't call back and you replay the scene in your head a hundred times of the few moments just before Sam got mad. Was she offended that you took her hand and claimed her that way? That thought makes you mad because you thought it had been clear from the beginning that Sam was yours and yeah, it was never official, but some things don't need to be.

She doesn't call you and you're left wallowing in your own self doubt because it's all you know how to do without Sam. You're not quite sure what you did but something upset her and Sam's never been this mad at you before. She's never not touched you back.

And that hurts.

* * *

The next morning you're at the bus stop early. You'll catch Sam as soon as you can because you are not going to let her toy with you like that. It's not fair. Zoe smirks at you from across the parking lot and her boobs are, once again, popping out to say hello. You glare at her while Spencer sings enthusiastically to a Beyonce song. Before the song has a chance to end you see Sam's mom's car pulling up and you tear yourself out of the car, screaming goodbye to Spencer over the volume.

You give Ms. Puckett a wave as you circle your way around the car. Sam frowns at you from inside and reluctantly steps out, trying to keep her face casual and nonchalant but you know Sam and you can see the hesitance in her eyes when she glances in your direction. Ms. Puckett roars away and it's just you standing in front of Sam, arms crossed.

"I called you three times and left a voicemail," you say accusingly but you know there's hurt in your voice because Sam looks worried before turning her gaze to the ground.

"Yeah, sorry. I was ... thinking."

"About what? Acting so cruel to me yesterday?" You've gone over the scenario a thousand times in your head and you have no idea what you did wrong and you hate not being able to just tell like you usually do with Sam. It's frustrating.

Sam's eyes grow hard when she looks at you and the anger in them isn't the way she looks at you - that's the way she looks at people she doesn't trust. That's the way she looks at Freddie. Not you. Never, never you.

"Why are you bugging me like this, Carly?" The bus rumbles behind you and she steps forward and stands close to you and your arms are still crossed like you don't want to let her in but you do, she's the only person you've ever wanted to let in like that. "I give you every sign that I want to be with you and you ignore all of them, but as soon as another girl wants to get to know me you freak out like you're my jealous, clingy wife."

Your jaw drops. Sam stares at you for a moment and when you don't say anything she brushes past you and you're left staring at the empty space before you. "Sam," you whisper to no one but yourself and then Tom is calling for you and you drag your feet to the bus. You're not really there, just letting your body work on auto pilot and you're almost in a kind of shock as you glance down the aisle and see Zoe perched happily next to Sam.

Your Sam.

You're not sure if it's because your knees give out or because it was the closest seat, but you collapse into it and grip your lunchbox with your forehead pressed to the glass and this isn't happening, Sam would never do that to you but she has a point. Of course she has a point and of course she's right. You can't just want Sam when she's in jeopardy of being taken away - you have to want her all the time.

* * *

Sam is across the road again and Zoe joins her. You mumble a nice string of foul words about the purple-haired bitch under your breath, far from the group, but keep a constant watch over the two of them from where you are, picking up broken beer bottles and McDonald's bags and plastic figures and you even find a high heeled shoe at one point. Zoe and Sam work together and you can hear them laughing from here and it makes that protective nature that only Sam can ignite explode somewhere in your chest.

This is hardly fair.

Because you don't know what you want Sam to be to you but everything was fine until now. Sam had never given anyone a second glance except you. She had never even suggested having interest in anyone else but you but you suppose that's why she's so upset - because she let you know, bluntly, and you never did anything about it. Why? Because you're scared and you never thought you were really that great; you don't see what Sam sees in you. You want her to want you but you're afraid what that kind of want means for you and it scares you to think that Sam could ever give up waiting and go for someone else.

The next time you glance up, you see Sam and Zoe facing each other and that purple-haired bitch curls her hand upward and brushes Sam's bangs out of her eyes.

And that's when you snap because you touch Sam that way, not Zoe. Not anyone else.

You drop your stick and garbage bag and just barely glance across the highway before marching across it. Sam turns in your direction almost as if she knows you're coming and her blue eyes are wide as she registers you crossing a busy highway and she sprints away from Zoe. The panicked expression on her face almost soothes you, because at least you know that no matter how mad she is at you, she'll always worry about your safety.

Her hand finds your elbow and she drags you out of the road. "Jesus, Carls, what the fuck are you _doing_?" She's mad but the kind of mad that people are when they care so much about you, they don't know what to do with themselves. "You almost got hit, this is a goddamn highway if you forgot, there are cars and they go fast and they will _kill you_ if they_ hit you_ -"

"Yes, Sam, I'm very aware that fast cars can kill me." You take her hand and squeeze it with every intention of holding on no matter what she says or does. "I need to talk to you, now."

Sam pauses, studying you before flicking her gaze over her shoulder. Zoe is glaring at you but you don't even acknowledge her. Tom is further down the stretch of road and finally, after several long moments of anxious tension, Sam leads you away from Zoe and the rest of the group. She pulls you into a dense collection of trees lining the highway, releasing you as soon as she's sure you can no longer be seen. She presses her back to a tree and narrows her gaze at you. "What do you want?"

"Don't talk like that to me, Sam." You glance down at your shuffling feet. "It's mean."

Sam's lips twist and she looks away, her blue eyes distant for a moment. "I'm sorry," she grits through her teeth, standing straighter. "I'm just tired of the mixed messages."

You gaze helplessly at her because you still don't know what you want to say but you had to get Sam away from Zoe. Sam is your other half and you don't want her to be touched by people who shouldn't be touching her or even _thinking _about touching her. "Sam," you try and you find comfort in her name even if that's all you manage to verbalize.

Sam just stares at you expectantly and crosses her arms. You don't like her doing that to you because you feel closed off and you step forward, ripping her arms apart and sinking into them. She doesn't even hesitate and her arms circle around your waist and she's whispering in your ear that it's okay, it's fine, but it's not because you had no idea that you were torturing Sam that way. "I'm sorry, Sam, I just, I'm confused -"

"Shh," Sam silences you and threads her fingers through your hair and you really don't deserve her kindness but this is Sam and Sam's different. "It's okay, it's okay to be confused. I can wait until you figure it out."

"You shouldn't have to wait," you whisper into her neck and you feel a shrug of her shoulders as she rubs your back.

"You're worth waiting for." And then she pulls you back and presses a kiss to your forehead. "C'mon, cupcake, let's get back." She tangles her hand in yours and leads you out of the trees and back to the real world and community service and paying for the crime you committed. "Go back over there and pick up trash like the little criminal you are."

"Am I a cute criminal?"

"Of course." She squeezes your hand and glances down the highway before nudging you toward it.

"Cuter than Zoe?"

Sam blinks, glancing at the other girl who is trying to hide the fact that she is watching you two by ducking her head. Sam laughs and nods. "Much cuter. I prefer brunettes, personally."

You laugh and jog across the highway and you wonder how someone so perfect can exist, how someone can wait for so long and then keep waiting even though someone else has come along. You don't deserve Sam but, really, she's too good for anyone.

* * *

The next day is your last of community service and by the end, you're hot, sweaty, sticky, and Sam still wraps you as close as she can to herself. Neither of you smell too lovely at the moment but Sam could be covered in rotten trash and you wouldn't mind because it's Sam and that's just the way it is with her.

"Do you feel like you've paid your debt to society?" Sam's smiling into your hair and you grin, shrugging.

"I hardly think that three days of hard labor amounted to one smiley face on a wall. I could have just painted over it and saved everyone a lot of hoop-la."

She laughs and curls close to you, ducking her mouth by your ear. "Don't look now, but Zoe is glaring so hard I think fire might spew from her mouth."

You giggle and tilt your head up, meeting those brilliant blue eyes with your own and you bite your lip for a moment in thought. "How about we give her something to be really mad about?"

Sam's face shifts for a moment in confusion but she must find the answer in your eyes because her brow clears and she looks at you like she's afraid you'll back out. "Are you sure?"

And you're scared and nervous about what might happen afterward but, yes, you're sure. You nod and she grins at you, holding the side of your face with one hand and bringing warm lips to yours. And everything explodes inside of you because you've kissed a lot of boys before but nothing felt like this. It's like your lips were created just for hers to press against them and you forget where you are, you forget that you're on a bus full of delinquents and you forget that Zoe is watching you because it's just you and Sam and you wonder what in the _hell _you were confused about because you've never been so certain about anything in your life.

* * *

"No."

"C'mon, Carls, we're not going to get caught, I promise."

"No. I just did three days of community service, I am not spray painting the wall."

Sam huffs at you and shakes the can, the clicking arising familiar memories for you. "Fine. Turn around and I'll make something for you."

You glance nervously up and down the empty street. It's dark and quiet and it's not like you can talk Sam out of something she has her mind set on so you just sigh and turn around. "Fine."

She shakes the can again and then there is the sound of a high-pitch spray. You start to glance over your shoulder until Sam stops you with a threat involving ripping your nose off and making you eat it if you look. You stare into the darkness ahead of you until hands find your shoulders and she turns you around.

Spray painted red on the abandoned wall of the hair salon is "S & C" framed in a lopsided, goofy-looking heart.

"It's cheesy, I know, but I never claimed to be an artist."

You turn and beam at her because it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you and you thank her with a kiss and her hands puddle in your back to bring you as close as you can while her tongue brushes your lower lip. You shiver and part your lips to invite her to do it again but Sam suddenly freezes and far off in the Seattle distance is the ring of sirens.

Sam takes your hand and sprints with you behind her and you're scared but so happy you could burst and you and Sam disappear into the shadows, laughing, leaving your mark behind you.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own iCarly.

_**Review if you wish, I would love any feedback/criticism. **_


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